


"It's Okay. I Couldn't Sleep Anyway."

by impulse_baker



Series: 100 Ways to Say 'I Love You' [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Dean is a Sweetheart, Fluff, M/M, POV Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulse_baker/pseuds/impulse_baker
Summary: When Cas has an anxiety attack, Dean comes to the rescue with a heart to heart, hot cocoa and snuggles.





	"It's Okay. I Couldn't Sleep Anyway."

Living at the Bunker with the Winchesters was a blessing, even with his Grace intact. Their shelter and companionship provided Castiel with a sort of protection that the strength and power afforded to him by his Grace, did not give.

Though he was no longer hunted, he was still haunted, and he found reprieve from that in the company of his family under this roof.

Here, in the Bunker, he had his own room that Sam and Dean helped him put together and make his own. He had no earthly possessions in the beginning, and nor did he understand why humans held so tight to material objects, but as he collected gifts and mementos from the brothers and others, he understood the implicit value in some objects.

His room had books. Not just scripture or important tomes, but novels. Books whose pages brought to life fictional characters and beautiful stories. He owned framed pictures. Jody had gifted him a picture of Claire and him working on a puzzle. Sam had given him one of him with the two brothers that he can tell was taken by Bobby Singer. There were group pictures, individual pictures, candid pictures, pictures with ridiculous faces, but his favorite is of Dean and Claire and Jack standing by the open hood of the Impala. He had taken that photograph himself, and he reveled in the fact that it was something he was allowed to do. They had allowed him to share in their happiness and become part of their family.

The family he knew before this was not so affectionate.

None of these people would ever do anything to hurt each other. They would sacrifice themselves without hesitation for the sake of one another.

It was a different story with his angelic kin.

They often killed each other if the order was given. They belonged to a Host. Not a family. So much of their blood was shed at the hands of fellow angels.

Castiel, himself, was guilty of slaughtering countless of his kin. Their faces haunted him. He felt remorse over them all, but remorse did not bring them back.

In times like these, when his spirit was plagued by the heinous crimes he committed, he usually sought out Dean. But right now, it was late and surely the hunter was asleep.

Instead, he went out to the garden he and Dean had so carefully been cultivating.

He walked through the grass and in between the flower beds and rows of bushes and saplings and sprouts. Castiel trailed his fingers through the young leaves and he could feel the breeze whispering through the stems and branches. The smells of their mint and basil and rosemary and jasmine greeted his senses and as he walked on the soft welcoming fragrance of pansies, peonies, and lavender embraced him. He could smell the faint sweet notes of the zinnias, and the sharp pungent scent of the marigolds and he breathed it all in, letting the memories of being elbow deep in dirt with Dean flood his mind. He wondered how much of this Dean was able to smell, with his limited human senses.

He watched a butterfly flutter to a stop on the blossom of milkweed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath for every other flap of wings that he could hear. He technically did not need to breathe, but the physical practice of it had a calming effect on him. It was something Dean taught him. He let the soothing sensations of being there seep into his being and reclaim him.

This garden was nothing less than a labor of love. Even with its limited variety of flora and the youth of the vegetation, it reminded him so much of the Garden he knew in Heaven.

And just like that, he was reminded of all his brethren that would no longer know the splendors and joys of that Garden. He saw the flash of Grace of every single one of them that he had killed. He saw the black void of the Empty where they were condemned to rest.

His vessel began to react badly in sync with the turmoil of his Grace. Castiel could not control the increasingly rapid beats of his heart or the tremors in his chest and he was aware of the physical _pain_ that only came from having a body.

_This is my body. Not a vessel. This is a body._

“Cas?”

He shuddered a breath and realized he was kneeling in grass when he had to look up at Dean, whose posture matched his own.

“Cas what’s wrong?”

He was incapable of forming intelligible words and communicating to his friend what was going on, although the thoughts in his mind did not show any signs of slowing down. His eyes implored Dean to show him comfort and ease his torture.

Dean was his savior, truly. He assumed a position next to him and Castiel found himself in his protective embrace. He felt a firm press of his palm between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down, as if pressing comfort back into his body. He felt the other worn hand of his hunter rest at the side of his face, fingers brushing the hair curling behind his ear.

When his Father said that humanity was His best creation, Castiel accepted it out of blind faith and duty. But it was Dean that made a true believer out of him. Dean gave him faith, not only in the mission Castiel had been given all those millennia ago to protect humanity, not only in the goodness of people, in the bond he had with Dean. He gave him the faith that he was not a broken excuse for an angel.

“You want to talk about it?” His hunter’s normally gruff voice came out gentle and saccharine.

“I don’t deserve all this goodness that you have given me. I have done nothing to deserve the renewed chance at life and happiness with this family.”

“With all due respect, that’s a load of bullshit, Angel.”

Castiel let a broken laugh escape his lips and he brushed his forehead against the soft material of Dean’s shirt.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Dean continued.

“Of course.”

“You came in all bad ass, sparks flying, wings out, smiling all smug at our useless bullets. Remember?”

“Your recollection seems skewed.”

“Nah, that’s EXACTLY how it happened. Anyway, do you remember what you said? Because honestly, man, your words kind of burned themselves into my memory.”

“I said you deserve to be saved.”

“Yeah. And you said _good things do happen._ Remember?”

“I suppose.”

“Ok, well, I’m saying the same to you right now. Good things happen, and you deserve those good things.”

“But I’m not – ”

“But nothing. You’ve done everything you’ve ever done with the intention of either saving my ass or saving the world. I’d say that’s pretty damn noble. Do you hold any of my fucked up mistakes and killing sprees against me?”

“No of course not…”

“Ok then. You ready to go back inside or do you want to stay out here for a bit?”

Truthfully, Castiel did not want to be left alone again. He wanted Dean’s company for the rest of the night. More accurately, he wanted Dean’s company for the rest of his existence, but that was speaking in broader terms.

“We can make hot chocolate and watch tv or something if you want.” Dean was constantly proving to be perfect.

“Yes, Dean, that sounds wonderful.”

They stood up together and Castiel grimaced at the dampness of his pants and looked apologetically at where Dean’s own flannel pants had gotten wet from the moisture in the grass. But Dean only smiled and ushered him towards the Bunker entrance with a guiding hand on the small of his back.

Once inside, Dean shed his pants and jacket and wrapped himself up his bathrobe, then offered another robe to Castiel.

“Take off your pants and stuff and put this on. Comfy robes are self-care.” His out stretched hand was accompanied by a grin and an affectionate shimmer in the forest green of his irises.

Once they both had steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped off with a mountain of whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder, snuggled on Dean’s bed against the headboard and under a heavy fleece throw, Castiel let his head loll onto Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your rest. I know you were tired.” Though he was not at all sorry that he was getting to spend his time as such at the moment.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Well I shouldn’t have inconvenienced you.” Castiel replied timidly.

“Hey, come on. I mean, I wasn’t asleep, and then I heard you leave, and then you never came back and I got kind of worried. So, really, nowhere I’d rather be.”

“I agree.”

It was the truth. Out of all the time and space he had travelled through, this moment with Dean in Lebanon, Kansas, was most precious.

Dean pressed play on _Lilo and Stitch_ on his laptop and settled back into Castiel. He appreciated the warmth coming from his hunter and he let himself stay exactly as he was, head rested at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He inhaled the lingering scents of dew and flowers that clung to Dean and mixed with his natural smell, complemented by the cocoa.

He wasn’t sure he believed that he deserved this peace with Dean. He wasn’t sure he deserved anything with the hunter. But if he would not refuse what he was given. This was a gift. A blessing. He would allow himself to be blessed, especially if Dean saw him as worthy.

They could allow each other to have this.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so in love with their love.  
> Hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think.
> 
> Previous work: "I Made Your Favorite."  
> Next work: "Watch Your Step."


End file.
